All You Wanted
by writerdot
Summary: "All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy."


Based on the promo for 7x16 "Out of the Chute" and spoilers from episodes up to and including 7x15 "Bombshells."

**All You Wanted**

"_House!"_

He looks down and wants to laugh in disbelief at how quickly Wilson got here after he called. Settling for a small smile instead, he holds on to the post beside him, and knows peripherally that he really shouldn't be surprised.

"Break any traffic laws?" He hollers down at Wilson, who is standing in a classic pose: hand on his hips, tie askew but hair still managing to look perfect. Though, he's sure that the look of fury he hasn't seen in a while is on Wilson's face, too. It's a little hard to see up here.

"House! Just…I can't yell like this….Will you please just get down and talk to me?"

House doesn't even bother to answer, instead just lifts his chin up and closes his eyes. He isn't sure he imagines Wilson's explosive sigh, though, like seeing his facial expression, he couldn't hear it from his perch on the balcony.

He hears Wilson behind him not even five minutes later, and suppresses the smile that wants to come to his lips this time at how out-of-breath Wilson sounds.

"Surprised you aren't having a heart attack right now."

"I think I'm half way there," Wilson bites out. "You selfish-son-of-a-bitch."

"I sure get told that, a lot."

"Yeah, I know," Wilson retorts, sharply. Then, he sighs again and House can practically see him wiping the back of his neck with his hand before planting it back on his hip. "House….please get down."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Doesn't hurt so much up here."

"Then why did you call me? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did, but you must have realized that I'd want to get you down."

"Sure, I realized that."

"So….you wanted me watch you jump?"

"No."

Wilson doesn't speak for a second, but House can practically feel him, knows exactly how close Wilson is, knows that any second Wilson will-

And there it is. Wilson squeezes his hand around his wrist carefully, since he can't reach House's shoulder.

"We can get you some help. I told you before that I would get you some help."

He's been thinking about that offer, a time that seems like a life-time ago. "Why bother? Didn't I practically abandon you?"

Wilson squeezes his wrist again. "You were trying to be happy."

"I was an idiot. I _am _an idiot."

"Well," Wilson says slowly, "I won't argue with that. But Cuddy…Cuddy's a bitch."

House actually snorts in amusement. "Wait….I think I'm hallucinating."

"Considering we're having this conversation while you're standing on the railing five stories up on a balcony, I'm half-afraid that I'm the one who is hallucinating."

"You called Cuddy a bitch and as nice as it is to hear that… I'm the addict. She….she was just doing what she needed to protect herself and her kid."

"You're being awfully forgiving," Wilson says softly.

"I know who I am. I was trying to fool myself into thinking I could change…if I could just…."

"…love her enough," Wilson finishes. "House, she knew who you were when she started dating you. The problem is that when you guys started your relationship, she tried to make you into something you're not. Which, I think, is why you're taking all of this so hard. You tried, House, but I don't think it was ever actually going to be enough."

House frowns. "Then why the hell did you keep pushing us together?"

Wilson adjusts his fingers on House's wrist just a little, enough so House can feel the movement, and he realizes that Wilson's fingers are right up against his pulse point. "You wanted to be happy. You tried so hard to achieve that with her, House. I was just hoping that it would work out for you. All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy. I've told you that."

House finally turns his head away from the breezy night and looks down at Wilson's fingers wrapped around him. "You're right."

Wilson's surprise is easy to feel; the grip on House's wrist adjusts again. "Okay, now I know I'm hallucinating."

House shakes his head with a smile, but the amusement fades quickly. "I thought I needed her to be a better person….to not go back to what I was…the addict and all around ass."

"She stopped you from taking Vicodin at a low point in your life, House. Of course you felt you needed her."

"I was trying to keep her."

Wilson tugs the slightest bit on his wrist. "Was it worth it to become a whole other person?"

House thinks about that for a second. "I wanted it to matter. To be enough."

"House, for it to be enough, you need someone who's going to accept _you_. Not expect you to do things she never bothered to give more then a token protest about before, just because you're sleeping together."

"You sound like you've been thinking about this pretty extensively."

"Yeah, well, I thought, for awhile, that letting her do that _would _help. But then, you cut back on something pretty important and I selfishly realized that the new you didn't really work for me."

"Our friendship."

Another squeeze. "Yeah."

"You know, drugging you is just a way to show my affection for you."

Wilson snorts. "And the bruise on my forehead afterwards from hitting the table?"

House sobers at that. "I meant to catch you."

"No, you didn't. And that's okay."

House finally turns his head the slightest bit. "Seriously?"

Wilson smiles softly. "Not at first. But, like you said, I pushed you at her and you tend to throw yourself into anything you feel strongly about. Besides, I'm here, now, aren't I?"

"You're the one who's too forgiving."

Wilson averts his eyes. "You know, at one time, Cuddy was my friend. I was pissed at you for leaving her when she was in a hospital bed and I told Foreman I wasn't playing your game. But then she abandoned you when you needed her the most. And then I realized that I've been playing that game for almost twenty years and I don't think I can forfeit just yet. I said it once and I'll say it again: no one hurts my friend. I… may have told her that much tonight."

"May have?"

"Okay. I did tell her as much earlier. That's where I was when you called me."

"That explains the cold breeze I felt through the phone."

"It didn't go well."

"Did you call her a bitch to her face? Because I may jump if you tell me you did and didn't invite me to watch."

"She'd have really hurt you then. She wasn't especially receptive."

"I could've hid in the bushes."

"I'll re-enact the conversation for you."

"Right now."

Wilson tugs a little harder on his wrist. "Get down first and you can have whatever you want."

House considers that. "Can I have pancakes?"

Wilson smiles and rolls his eyes at the same time and it suddenly, randomly, occurs to House that, throughout his relationship with Cuddy, it's been one or the other. House has forgotten how much he liked seeing him do both simultaneously, because he knows that it's a prelude to Wilson helping him with some scheme or another.

It's been awhile since they've gotten into trouble like they used to. He didn't realize he'd missed it, or how much it had been missing in his life, that smile/eye roll combination.

"Sure, House," Wilson says. "You can have pancakes."

House smiles and turns his head toward the night again, sees Wilson's Volvo in the parking lot and adjusts his hand so that Wilson's fingers are around his own, instead of wrapped around his wrist, in a wordless answer.

Wilson helps him get down and they both collapse against the nearest wall. They both breathe steadily for a moment and neither notices that they're hands are still wrapped together.

"I'm sorry you couldn't be happy with her."

House shrugs, his shoulder brushing Wilson's. "I needed Vicodin to be happy with her."

"Do you think you needed it to be happy with her, or you needed it to make her happy and do your job at the same time?"

House looks at him, stunned, but not sure why. Wilson always used to be too perceptive. "You're really scary sometimes, Wilson."

"I know you, House," Wilson says, the amusement palpable in his voice. "You've come to me a lot about your relationship with her, remember? And most of it had to do with her forcing you to basically choose between what you thought was right for your patient in order to save his life, or having sex with her. I can put two and two together, you know."

Something still doesn't compute with House. "You didn't say anything before. You've never said any of this before and you've never really been one to keep your mouth shut."

"I told you. I wanted you to find a way to be happy with Cuddy."

"Then you went all selfish. Fine. But now that Cuddy and I have broken up, you're speaking up…I don't-"

Then it occurs to him suddenly and he looks at Wilson, whose smile turns a little sad. "I didn't want to be the reason-"

"-that Cuddy and I broke up."

Wilson exhales slowly. "Yeah."

"But my other old friend Vicodin was the reason."

"I think the Vicodin was the reason she realized that anything she tried to do, she wouldn't be able to make you happy, or change you, but yes…" Wilson pauses for a second and House gets the impression that he's trying to find the words to say what he wants to say next, before Wilson finally just says, simply and sincerely: "I want to help you. However you need, House."

That sounds like a statement, but House hears the question: _Will you let me?_

House looks at this man, the man who, through everything, has been his friend for almost twenty years, this man who, through hell and back, always ends up on the other side eventually, standing right beside him.

House knows they have a lot more to talk about and get through, but in this moment he can't find it in himself to care.

"Yes."

END


End file.
